Trilogy of Firsts
by Lady Etiquette
Summary: Short fic of three vignettes covering Matthew and Mary's intimate "firsts" during their engagement and new marriage. Thank you to Julian Fellows for these wonderful characters!
1. Chapter 1

**The First Lovers Kiss**

If there was one thing Matthew Crawley could never be accused of, it would be impropriety. He was meticulous in his person, his comportment, his sense of honor, and his treatment toward other people. Naturally, his behavior and mores extended towards women, as Mary was well aware.

Their engagement had been stuff of fairy tales. Matthew's heartfelt proposal had been offered on bended knee—albeit with a little playful nudging on her part—followed by Mary's quick and enthusiastic acceptance. Looking back on it, she recalled how Matthew had then kissed her lovingly and swept her up in his arms for a romantic twirl in the snowfall.

Kissed her lovingly…

Yes, to be sure, he had, indeed, kissed her very lovingly. And ever since, in the following weeks that passed, he had continued to share his affection toward her openly. When they had first told their parents and family members, he had held her hand and kissed her cheek. As the days went by, and they announced their plans to friends and acquaintances at various teas and parties, Matthew stood beside her attentively, but with the utmost propriety and with all due respect toward social graces. He was every inch a gentleman and his intentions were entirely honorable and respectful toward his fiancée. He held her hands warmly and tenderly and whenever he greeted her, his lips brushing romantically but sweetly against her cheek, sometimes just daring to touch the corner of her mouth. And when he bid her goodnight, alone in the late hours of the evening, standing together on the foyer, he pressed his lips against hers, sometimes letting his teeth graze her lower lip. On one such occasion, Mary had leaned toward him, pressing herself in to him, and he had chuckled and gently pulled away. "Mary," he had said slightly breathlessly with a smile, "I should go."

"Yes, of course," she had replied. She watched as he put on his hat and gloves and smiled as he placed one last kiss against her cheek.

As his lips touched her, he murmured, "I love you," against her skin. When he pulled away, his eyes longed for her, gazing in to hers momentarily, and then he was gone.

Yes, he loved her and she knew it. But did he desire her? In all the time they had ever spent together, Matthew had always been the perfect gentleman. Loving, comforting, and flirtatious, and always above reproach.

And so it was on an evening when Mary sat on a chair in a pub, her hands clasped in her lap, happily observing the other customers around her as Matthew stood at the bar ordering their drinks. She admired his tall physique and handsome features. As she watched him, her eyes happened to notice another couple at a table across the dimly lit room. They were somewhat younger, Mary guessed, perhaps in their early twenties. The young man was in an Army officer's uniform and the young lady wore a suit. Mary glanced at them, trying not to stare, noticing that as the young man whispered something secretively in to his date's ear, his hand seductively glided from her knee up and under the hem of her skirt, eliciting a giggle from the woman, who playfully shooed his hand away.

Matthew returned with their drinks, setting one down in front of Mary. "The sherry they have on hand isn't legendary but I think it should suffice." He looked at Mary and noticed that she was preoccupied. As he sat down across from her, Matthew turned his head casually to see what captured her attention and saw the couple, practically in a clinch. He looked back at Mary and saw that her cheeks had flushed. "You're blushing."

Mary's head snapped back towards him. "What?"

He sipped his beer and then smiled at her. "I said you are blushing."

She chuckled, self consciously. "I was just noticing that younger couple. They're quite sweet and obviously quite in love." She took a sip of her sherry, her fingers gracefully curled around the stem of the glass.

Matthew looked over at the couple again and then turned back. "In love? It's practically indecent, if you ask me." He kept his voice at a whisper. "That lieutenant's hands are brazenly all over her and we're in a public place."

Mary glanced over at the couple again, resting her hand on her chin and sighed softly. "Yes, indeed." The Army officer kissed his date, his mouth opening over hers in a passionate moment, and then slowly pulled away. Mary realized that she and Matthew had never kissed like that…like lovers.

Matthew looked at her nonplused. "And their public display doesn't offend you?"

She looked at him. "Well, I suppose it is a bit inappropriate for such a public setting. Still, aside from being in love, it's obvious they desire each other. Nestled in a dimly lit pub, I don't think it's such a terrible thing." She looked at him. "He takes her breath away."

Matthew eyed her looking for the true meaning of her words in her reflection. "I don't take your breath away?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, don't be silly." Mary took a sip of her sherry, assessing him from under her eyelashes.

"Are you suggesting that I'm not," he paused, unsure how to frame his question, "that we aren't in some way," he stopped, looking around to make sure no one overheard him, "that we aren't in love in the same way that couple is?"

Mary saw true concern in his face and smiled sweetly. "I'm not saying any such thing." She reached across the table and put a reassuring hand on his wrist, gently squeezing.

Matthew continued to watch her, his eyes searching her face. He knew there was something more behind the expression in her soft brown eyes. "Then what?"

She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know…"

As her hand rested on his wrist, he turned his hand in hers and intertwined their fingers affectionately. His voice was quiet and low as he leaned forward. "Tell me." He waited. "Is it that I am not courteous enough in some way?"

Mary looked at him and could see his sincerity as his brilliant blue eyes twinkled across at her. She let out a soft, hushed laugh. "Oh, Matthew, you are always courteous."

He continued to press his case, his competency as a lawyer on his side. "Am I not a perfect gentleman?"

She smiled and squeezed his hand in return. "You are most certainly a consummate gentleman."

He nodded with teasing conceit. "Well, I should hope so."

She cocked her head. "But I'm afraid being a consummate gentleman it isn't always very flattering to a lady." As she held his hand, Mary tugged it gently and put her other hand over it to reassure him. "Do you know that in all the time we have spent together you have never once made a pass at me?"

He blinked back at her and was slightly confused. "A pass?" He thought for moment. "Well, don't be ridiculous, of course I have. I kiss you whenever we're together."

She smiled. "Yes, you do, and they are lovely kisses. But that isn't what I mean." She paused for effect.

Matthew's eyes glanced from Mary's over to the young couple again. He noticed how the young woman giggled in her lieutenant's arms, gently nudging his overzealous attention with a hand to his chest…and he realized in that moment that the woman felt desired…_wanted…abandon._

He looked back at Mary and now understood what she was referring to. "Oh, I see."

Mary's eyes implored his. "Do you?"

He let out a breath. "Mary, just because I don't force my attention on you—yet, anyway—doesn't mean that I don't think about us in that way." He took a beat, looking at her to register her understanding as he spoke. "I just wouldn't want you to think that I'm attempting to seduce you." He held his breath to see if she interpreted his diplomatic meaning regarding Pamuk, without wanting to bring it up.

She smiled and sipped her drink again, and then leaned forward and whispered in words she knew he would comprehend. "Matthew, I would consider it enormously romantic if my fiancée, the man that I am engaged to wed in four months and will spend my life with, tried to seduce me."

It was his turn to cock his head. He was intrigued. "I see," he replied, his voice deep and filled with understanding. He took another pull from his beer then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers, looking at her from under his brow. "Well, I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

The next afternoon Matthew returned to Downton, looking for Mary. At the main house, Carson had informed him that she had gone riding and could be located at the stables. Matthew followed the path from the big house down to the paddock, and saw Mary hanging a leather bridle up against the wall. She was wearing grey jodhpurs, black knee high boots, a white blouse and a black jacket. As he approached, she caught sight of him and waved, her riding crop visible in her gloved hand.

"Hello," he said leaning down and kissing her forehead. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was askew from her ride. It reminded him of the first day he met her, bringing a smile to his face. He thought she looked blissfully beautiful.

"Hello! What a pleasant surprise." She put a hand on his lower back and rubbed it gently.

He smiled down at her. "I thought I might catch you for tea?"

"That sounds lovely. I just have a few things to put away."

"I'll help you." He followed her in to the paddock, winding around past an empty stable. He noticed her backside and how the jodhpurs clung to her bottom and outlined her legs. "If you don't mind my saying, those riding trousers suit you."

She turned around and glanced over her shoulder at him. "You're being cheeky." Mary stopped and placed her crop up on shelf and hung her hat up. "I like you when you're cheeky."

As she puttered at the table, Matthew watched her. A loose strand of hair hung down the side of her face. He reached over and brushed the flyaway behind her ear, letting his fingers linger around her earlobe, softly caressing it. She tipped her head in to his hand and gazed at him, his eyes alluringly blue. His voice was quiet and secretive in the solitude of the stable. "Did you ride him hard?"

Mary froze, her eyes riveted to him, realizing that he was standing just beside her as his hand grazed her ear, his eyes dark and penetrating. Her eyelids slipped shut at the tenderness of his touch and the suggestive timber of his voice. She lost her train of thought. "Did I what?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Matthew's lips. "Diamond." His fingers moved from her ear to her cheek, grazing her flushed skin. "Did you ride him hard?" He could smell her hair and the scent of her body.

She opened her eyes to find him standing closer, his mouth just inches from hers. "Yes," she breathed against him, her tone deep like whiskey, "he can go for hours. He wore me out."

His hand was cupping her cheek, and his eyes bore in to hers. He felt bewitched by her beauty and the realization that here, unlike everywhere else, they were completely and totally alone. There were no chaperones or family members watching over them and overhearing their conversation. He felt his blood pulse and could hear his heart in his ears. He leaned toward her, his lips just a centimeter from hers. Here he could kiss her as he had wanted to since the day he met her. As he whispered, his lips brushed against hers, "I can understand how he feels."

His words made Mary whimper as his mouth closed over hers, warmly and passionately. She turned to face him and he pulled her to him. His lips and teeth nipped at her until she eagerly welcomed his tongue in her mouth. Her fingers went up in to his hair, running through it as they angled their heads to kiss deeper, penetrating as much as they could.

Matthew took a step forward pushing her back up against the table. He pressed in to her, his hands moving inside her jacket, up the sides of her body, over her blouse and around her back, pulling her ever tighter to him. They were both breathing heavily and paused momentarily to catch their breaths. Matthew carefully lifted her up and set her on to the table. He looked at her and saw the passion smoldering in the depths of her eyes. He gently nudged her legs apart and stepped closer, between her thighs, pulling her hips until she was sitting on the edge of the table, his center aligned with hers. Their eyes held each other's gaze and they panted with need. He reached out and gently pushed her jacket over her shoulders and down her arms. As Mary let the garment fall to the table, she reached up and loosened his necktie. He closed his arms around her and took her mouth again. They didn't know where his tongue began and hers ended as they made love with kisses and caresses, their hands moving over their clothing and exploring their bodies. He leaned forward against her and her boots came up around his hips, causing his center to rub up against hers. She fell back slightly against the table and Matthew reached out one arm, palm down against the table, to brace himself and balance them.

They both moaned openly and she shuddered at the passion she felt in his embrace, his breathless words and his lips. "Oh, God Mary, I love you so much. I have wanted to kiss you like this for as long as I can remember. I knew if we kissed like this it would be too much…"

Her head fell back and his mouth trailed down over her neck, causing her breath to shudder. "I love you so very much my darling…"

"I never wanted you to feel that I didn't want you or this." His body was moving against hers, his hands and mouth everywhere all at once.

Mary felt electrified by their frenzied movements and the passion raging through them…from his mouth to hers, from her middle to his, from fingertip to fingertip. They were falling perilously easily in to the abyss of the moment of no return.

Suddenly the voices of several stable boys could be heard off in the distance approaching the paddock. And almost as quickly as it had started, it stopped. Matthew paused and then she gently put a hand to his heaving chest. They were both panting and rested their foreheads together, alone in the stable. His eyes blinked open to look at her, and he saw Mary's warm brown eyes gazing back at him, filled with love and longing and something else…the expression of a lover?

Matthew slowly stood up, and carefully helped Mary to a proper sitting position. He smoothed a hand down his necktie and tightened the knot again. Her breathing was returning to normal and he held her hand as she slid down from the table. He held out her jacket as she slid her arms in to it and shrugged it back on. She looked up at him, smiling. "Am I presentable again?"

As he looked at her he saw her flushed cheeks, her eyes were coal black and her lips were reddened and swollen from their crushing desire. "I don't think I have ever seen you look so utterly beautiful."

She reached up and slid a hand through his hair. "Now I really am worn out," she teased him. "I don't know what will become of me when we're actually married?"

He laughed and didn't budge when her hand reached up and with her thumb she tenderly wipe some of the shininess from his lips before walking back up to the house. "Due to you I need a cold shower."

She smiled empothetically and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm sorry."

"It was worth it." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Besides I'm used to it—I've been taking them for the past eight years."

Mary laughed against him and kept her arm around him as they walked out toward the path and back up to the house. "It's only four more months."

His head fell back on his shoulders. "Oh, dear God, heaven help me."

She leaned up to kiss his cheek and nuzzled his ear and murmured against him. "I'll make that worth the wait, too."

* * *

**A/N** This is a short fic that will be a trilogy of firsts, so three vignettes. Stay tuned for the second portion - The First Night. :-) Thank you for reading lovely readers!


	2. Chapter 2

**The First Night**

Matthew stood courteously aside as the porter moved efficiently about the hotel room carrying their luggage. The suite had one bedroom and a well-appointed sitting area with large bay windows, which let in the late afternoon sun. He slid a hand in to his pants pocket of the dark brown suit he wore, smiling over at Mary who was across the room pretending to admire a floral arrangement of white roses. As she removed her hat, she plucked the small enclosure card from the bouquet and read it out loud, "_May all your nights be wedding nights. Love Always, Your Ma-ma, Isobel._" Mary looked over at her new husband, her eyes filled with affection. "What a lovely sentiment."

Matthew walked over to her and glanced down at the card. "You sound surprised?"

She looked up at him, already lost in his eyes again. "I suppose I am. She is so direct so much of the time I just never thought of her as being particularly sugary."

He kissed her cheek. "She still has every anniversary and birthday card my father ever gave her; and most of mine as well." He kissed her lips softly. "Trust me, at this very moment she is tucking a blossom from one of the wedding centerpieces in to a memory book."

The bellman appeared beside them. "Pardon me, sir, but I believe everything is situated as you and Mrs. Crawley requested."

Hearing the reference to Mrs. Crawley made Matthew smile as he was still getting used to the fact the attendant was referring to his new bride and not his mother. "Thank you so much," Matthew smiled at him and walked him toward the door. Removing his hand from his pocket, he shook the porter's hand, discreetly giving the young man a generous tip, and closed the door behind him.

Mary carefully tucked the card from Isobel in to her purse—a keepsake of her own. She looked up at her new husband who was returning to her side and she opened her arms, welcoming him to step in to her embrace.

Matthew hugged her, slipping his arms around her waist, and placed several small kisses on her neck, making Mary giggle. He smiled, delighted that his caresses elicited such a sparkling sound from her. He traced a tender trail of kisses over her cheek and her lips. "I love you, Mary," he murmured as he kissed her.

Mary hummed at his affection. "I am all yours."

He pulled back to look at her. Her brown eyes were filled with happiness as she gazed up at him. They were finally completely alone, all by themselves; for the first time in eight years, no longer under the watchful eyes of relatives. He rested his forehead against hers. "Would you like to freshen up?"

"Maybe." Her voice was coy and playful. "What about all of those things you were _looking forward_ to?"

Matthew's piercing eyes bore in to hers, the haunt of a naughty smile at the corner of his mouth. "Is that a proposition?"

She looked at him impishly. "Does it have to be? What about all of your innuendos, hmmm? The offer to carry me off naked?" She looked straight in to his eyes.

He felt his body tingle at her suggestion. "You better be careful what you wish for, Mrs. Crawley."

Her arms were draped around his neck as she shrugged teasingly. "You know what they say….those that talk the most, do the least." She suppressed a laugh. "Could it be that my new husband is all talk and no…" She yelped at being hoisted in to Matthew's arms as he reached down and lifted her up from behind her knees. "Matthew Crawley!"

He was carrying her to the bedroom. "Just remember, Mary, it's been eight years." He spoke lightheartedly as he walked through their suite with her in his arms. "Eight, _long_ years. I could qualify for the priesthood."

She laughed and kicked her feet in the air as her arms held tightly around his neck. "And you've been a perfect gentleman the entire time."

He smiled and laughed as he carried her toward the bed. "True, so after eight years, that means one of us could end up in a hospital tonight." He carefully and mischievously plopped her on to the bed, where she bounced several times on top of the mattress. He looked down at her determinedly. "And it may not be me."

Mary laughed and giggled, her head going back in to the pillows as she looked up at him. He shrugged his jacket off and tossed it over on to a chair and sat down beside her on the edge of the bed.

As Mary's giggles subsided, she caught her breath from laughing so hard. Looking up in to Matthew's blue eyes, which glittered back at her, she reached up and slid several fingers around his necktie. She tugged it gently, bringing her husband's face down closer to hers until their lips barely touched. "I adore you," she whispered in to his mouth.

He brushed his lips against hers. "I am at your disposal, Lady Mary." He kissed her, gently at first, and then more passionately as he leaned almost on top of her. He opened his mouth, tracing his wet lips over hers, until he felt her teeth nip at the tip of his tongue, enticing him to kiss her deeply and wantonly.

He moved his head to kiss her cheek and then her ear, burying his head on her neck and his tongue around her ear. Mary shivered and gasped at the sensation. "Matthew?"

"Hmmm?" His lips mumbled around her flesh. His speaking skills were temporarily disabled while his mouth was busy with her earlobe.

"I have a lovely nightgown. Would you like to see it?" Her voice was a velvety whisper as her fingers slipped through his hair.

He kissed her cheek again and pulled back to look at her. His mind was clouded with lust and sex, but he wanted their first night and their honeymoon to be special for Mary. The last time she had been alone with a man her virtue had been seduced from her. Matthew had every intention of erasing that memory from her heart and soul, and filling her with love. He blinked several times and took a breath and looked down at her, noticing how earnest and loving her expression was. Earlier that day Robert had given her away to him and Matthew had been entrusted with her heart and safe keeping. And he had every intention of honoring that trust for the rest of their lives. "Yes, I'd like that very much, darling."

* * *

Mary assessed herself in the lavatory mirror, smoothing her hands over the long pale pink satin nightgown. Slender thin straps tied at her shoulders, and the shiny, form-fitting pink fabric flowed down over her body, outlining her breasts, slender waist and curves. She let her hair down and finger-tipped it so that it cascaded around her neck and delicate collarbones. Deciding that she looked properly lascivious for her husband—the priesthood, indeed!—Mary was ready to rejoin him.

As she walked quietly out in to the bedroom she thought back to Kemal Pamuk. What a juvenile, horrid mistake that had been. And yet, it had also compelled her to change her whole life. The truth was she owed Pamuk her gratitude. Had it not been for that vile episode, she might never have faced and realized her own failings, or been compelled to change and open her heart to others. Without either, she would never have captured the love of the dearest man who she would now happily give herself to, and spend her life with.

Mary saw Matthew laying back on the bed, still dressed in his suit. She smiled as she tip-toed over to the bed, eager to present herself to him with a seductive kiss and tempt him in her pink lingerie. But as she drew closer, she heard the sound of soft snoring. Looking down she saw Matthew had fallen sound asleep. She gingerly sat down next to him and whispered his name. "Matthew…"

He sighed and mumbled. "Hmm? Yes, yes, my darling, I 'm just resting my eyes for a minute. Then I am most wickedly yours."

Her head tilted and she smiled. His nap wasn't just from the chaos of the day or the week, but for the previous eight years of loss, war and waiting. She brushed several fingers over his brow, smoothing his hair. "It's been a long day hasn't it?"

He hummed in to her touch. "Yes, but a lovely day. You're the most beautiful bride in all of England," he paused in sleepy thought, "Unless, of course, we have a daughter, then you could get a run for your money." He chuckled as his eyes blinked open to look at her and he took in her appearance. "God, Mary…" His hand reached around her waist. "That gown is…well I don't know what to…" His voice was sincere but sleepy. "I promise, I just need a moment and I won't delay our wedding night."

Mary smiled and bent to kiss him, their lips lingering against each other. "Not to worry, dear Matthew. Remember, all our nights will be wedding nights." As Mary brushed her hand over his brow again, his soft snore returned. She carefully removed his necktie, slipping it from his collar and set it on he night stand. Then she stretched out beside him and snuggled in to his side, resting her head on his chest.

"Yes, all our nights...wedding nights," he exhaled as he wrapped his arms around her.

* * *

**A/N **Wedding nights don't always go according to plan, do they? :) Two vignettes down, one to go! Stay tuned for part three-First Time. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**The First Time**

His Mary; his stick…his wife.

Matthew woke to find Mary still curled against him. It was still officially their wedding night. They rested together until just after six in the evening and lounged in each other's arms, chatting and chuckling about their wedding. It was then that they admitted they both had butterflies and neither of them had eaten all day. Matthew drank his breakfast with Robert and Tom over one of Robert's vintage eighty year old Scotch whiskies, followed by several glasses of Bollinger at the reception. Mary hadn't faired much better, surviving on tea that morning and some champagne at the party as well. So they decided to have a light supper in the hotel dining room.

Matthew let Mary have the bedroom to dress, while he changed in to his tuxedo in the sitting room. Mary opted for a white beaded satin evening gown and put her hair back up as Anna had taught her to do so she would not need a ladies maid during most of their honeymoon. Before leaving the room, Mary asked Matthew to help her put one of the white roses from Isobel's bouquet in her hair. He expertly slid the little bloom just above her left ear, already loving his husbandly tasks.

* * *

Several hours and glasses of champagne later, they returned to the room. Walking along the beautiful corridor to the door, Matthew slid his hand in to his pocket and pulled out the room key. Watching him open the door and hold it open for her, Mary shivered at the thought that she could now share a hotel room with a man and all things were permitted. The thought made her flush.

She set her purse down. "I'll think I'll give ma-ma a quick call. Do you mind?"

He looked over at her as he picked up a brandy decanter and poured a generous splash in to one of the crystal snifters. "Don't be silly. Of course not." He tossed his jacket on the sofa and crossed the room to where Mary stood holding the phone. He glided down in to one of the overstuffed chairs, reclining back comfortably. He situated himself non-chalantly, the snifter propped on his crossed knee.

Mary spoke in to the phone. "Good evening operator, could you please connect me with Downton five-five-six-seven please?"

Matthew stopped in mid-sip, the glass paused at his lips. He looked up at Mary in surprise, recognizing the number. "Darling, that's not Cora's number."

She smiled down at him. "I know it isn't." She turned her attention back to the voice on the phone. "Hello, Isobel, its Mary. I hope it's not too late but I'm calling to thank you for the beautiful floral arrangement you had delivered to our room."

A smile crossed his face as he listened to Mary chat with his mother, telling Isobel how she had worn one of the roses in her hair to dinner. He thought back to earlier in the evening, when he and Mary had joked that he had been celibate for eight years. The truth was it had been four years. There had been a girl once during the war when he and a group of fellow officers had ventured in to Paris. His sexual experiences had all been more about exploration, slightly intoxicated moments of pleasure after stag parties and a few stolen interludes during his Oxford years. But he was a man of convention and tradition, and didn't really approve of pre-marital relations. He knew Mary was not a virgin, the result of a fleeting mistake. But the paradox was that part of him regretted that he was not to be her first lover; while another part of him was aroused by it. But tonight would be her first night with him, and that was all that mattered.

He thought back to his teenaged years when his father had talked with him about sex. "The thing is," Reginald Crawley had counseled lovingly, "don't think of your wedding night as one event. A woman is not one package to open, but rather, she will be hundreds of little presents that you will open together over a lifetime. So on that first night together, let her show you which present to open first."

Mary's voice drew him back to the moment. "Yes, I will tell him." She looked down at Matthew with a knowing glance. "And thank you, again, Isobel, for such a lovely gesture."

Matthew smiled up at her and touched his hand up to her arm in appreciation as she hung up the phone. "That was very sweet of you. Was she surprised that you called?"

Mary carefully removed her earrings and set them on the table. Matthew uncrossed his legs and patted his thigh, offering his lap to her, which she accepted by elegantly settling herself down in to it. She draped one arm around his neck. "A little."

"What does she want us to bring back for her from Provence?"

"News that I'm expecting her first grandchild."

Matthew paused in mid-sip again, the snifter stalled at his lips. "Dear Lord, did she actually _say that_?"

Mary smiled and ran a finger around his cheek. "Almost word for word."

He huffed out a laugh as his hand rubbed her back tenderly, speaking in a low and hushed tone. "Well, we certainly wouldn't want to let our mothers down, now would we?"

Mary's eyes twinkled conspiringly. "Absolutely not!" They shared a laugh as Mary reached for his brandy snifter and took a sip. Her eyes never left his. "You looked like you were in deep thought while I was on the phone. What were you thinking about?"

He let his head rest back against the chair. "My father."

Mary kissed him lovingly. "I'm sorry he wasn't here today."

He smiled at her. "Oh, but he was." Matthew lightly tapped a finger against his chest above his heart. "Right here, in the place that counts the most." He reached for the snifter and let a generous portion flow between his lips.

Mary smiled lovingly and ran two fingers through his hair. "Would you like to help me with my dress?"

He didn't move. "Of course."

She turned in his lap, her back to him, looking over her shoulder. "There are several buttons and hooks in the back. Would you mind?"

Another husbandly duty he would now relish the rest of his life. He handed the brandy snifter to Mary and as she sipped from it he went to work carefully and slowly pulling open several buttons and three small hooks. As her dress fell open, he leaned forward and pressed soft kisses on her back and along her shoulder blades, the palms of his hands warmly caressing her back.

Mary's eyes slid closed at the feel of his lips against her skin. "Thank you," she breathed out, letting the shoulder straps slide down her arms. His kisses trailed up to her neck, his breath tantalizing her and sending tiny waves of pleasure down her spine. She stood up and let the dress fall down her frame. Matthew watched her as she stepped out of it gracefully, and draped the dress over the cocktail table in front of them. Now wearing only a cream satin slip, and the rose in her hair, she sat back down in his lap, and he thought she was a vision. Her voice became low and beguiling. "I think you're over dressed for this occasion, Mr. Crawley." She reached for his black bow tie, her fingers gently pulling the satin fabric until the bow began to fall apart.

He chuckled quietly. "Far be it from me to argue with my wife." He sat still, reclined back against the chair, letting her slip his tie from his shirt.

She reached for the snifter and took a sip, the gold liquid glistening on her lips, and then leaned forward brushing her wet lips over his. Matthew let a dreamy moan drift from his mouth in to hers. Their lips slid against each other and his tongue traced along her lower lip, tasting the brandy and drinking the liquor from her mouth. They kissed deeply and seductively, and she could feel his arousal against her bottom in his lap.

Her hands smoothed over his shirt and one by one she delicately popped the jeweled studs from his shirt. "These are beautiful, Matthew."

"They were a gift from my grandparents on my eighteenth birthday," he whispered as he leaned forward and kissed her cheeks and ear as she set each stud on the table beside her earrings.

Her fingers nudged the edges of his shirt open. She bent forward and touched her lips to his jaw and neck and then downward, leaving a soft path of kisses over his chest. He sighed and felt his heart quicken at the feel of her touch, but made no effort to move remembering his fathers words…_let her show you which present to open first_.

Mary sat up and raised her hands to her hair. First she removed the rose bud, setting it on the table and then pulled at the combs. Matthew reached a hand out to help her, carefully sliding each accessory away. Slowly her mane of thick brown hair unraveled and fell around her shoulders. He slid a hand in to her hair, loosening it, and she closed her eyes and purred at the sensation.

His hand in her hair, he nudged her toward him and kissed her again, parting her lips with his. She pressed up against him, her chest against his, their tongues sweeping against each other and penetrating. He moved to kiss her jaw and Mary stood, tugging his hands in hers. He rose and followed her, their arms stretched out between them, connected by their clasped fingers. He pulled her back toward him and bent down to put a hand behind her knees, lifting her up in to his arms. Mary draped her arms around his neck and gazed at him, silent as he carried her to their bedroom.

He set her down gently on the bed and she leaned back on her hands, looking up at him adoringly. The lamp was still on and he could see the outline of her body as the peaks of her nipples were visible under her slip. He never took his eyes of her as he pushed his braces over his shoulders and down his arms. The silence in the room was finally broken by her question. "Would you like me to help you with your cummerbund?"

"Yes, thank you," was all he said. Mary sat up and her fingers unfastened the black satin waist garment, letting it fall to the floor. She paused and ever so tenderly placed the palm of her hand on the front of his pants, her eyes trained on her hand as it slowly moved.

Matthew stood perfectly still, watching her until her hand brushed over his arousal. As his eyes slid shut, he sucked in a breath and she looked up at him. Seeing the response on his face, Mary continued to touch him in the same manner for several moments. He balanced himself by resting a hand on her shoulder. Her voice was barely audible as she spoke. "What does that feel like?"

A smile crept over his lips, but his eyes remained closed as he replied. "Like a million butterflies."

"Just where my hand is?"

"No," he gently shook his head and then opened his eyes and looked down at her as he answered. "They flutter around a little lower, too."

She slowly moved her hand down between his legs, cupping him, and gently rubbed back and forth. "There?"

His eyes slipped closed again and his head fell back on his shoulders. "Yes," he breathed out in a long low sigh. The sound of desire in his voice sent chills throughout Mary's body. She moved her hand to the buttons of his trousers and carefully pulled them apart. His pants fell open, now resting on his hips, and she smoothed her hand down the front of his undergarment where she could feel the outline of his body. It felt hard and rigid and the underneath area was soft and warm. She leaned forward and kissed his middle, her tongue leaving a wet trail over his upper abdomen.

"Oh, God, Mary…" he exhaled as he stood letting her explore his body. His fingers drifted over the straps of her slip until they fell down her arms. Mary pulled the garment down exposing her chest and lay back on the bed, spread out before him.

As he looked at her she took his breath away. Her hair was fanned out around shoulders and her dark nipples were stiff, and her slip was bunched around her hips. He was finishing taking his clothes off and her voice broke the quiet again. "Matthew?"

"Yes?" He whispered not wanting to break their spell.

"Would you think I am a prude if we turn the lamp out?" Her voice was deep and seductive.

"Of course not and I don't think you are a prude." He wasn't sure if she wanted the light turned off because she was modest about her own appearance or intimidated by his. Either way, he reached over and snapped the lamp off, and the room was suddenly an ethereal dream bathed in moonlight. He helped her remove her slip so that they were both undressed, the blue and white glow of the room casting off their bodies.

He leaned down and kissed her, spreading over her. Her hands went up in to his hair, helping him feel relaxed as her touch caused little shudders of joy down his spine and throughout his body. His fingers tenderly traced her nipples and she moaned, pulling his head downward. He bent down and took one peak in to his mouth and she arched her back nearly up off the bed. He couldn't help but smile around her breast as he suckled her. He moved his head and paid the same attention to her other breast and her hips rolled up against him brushing against his erection. "I love you," she muttered as her head pushed back against the mattress in pleasure.

He looked down at her and in the moonlight she looked like a goddess. He skimmed his fingers down her body and over the curls at her center. "Is that alright?" He asked almost breathlessly.

"Yes, yes…" her hands reached down and glided over his shoulders reassuringly. He kissed her ribs and her abdomen as his fingers slid down between her thighs, slowly slipping through the wet valley of her body. He carefully inserted one and then two fingers, working them in and out of her feeling her body respond and her breathing quicken.

He rested his forehead against her. "Oh, Mary, my love…"

She moaned and rolled her head. "Matthew…please….please…." Her hands reached for him and he kissed them as he removed his hand from her center. Mary opened her eyes in time to see him put his fingers in his mouth, sucking her body's syrup from his fingertips. His hair was mussed and falling over his forehead, his lips wet with her essence, she thought he looked like her personal God of pleasure. She reached down and found his desire, stroking him until he nearly gasped.

As their mouths found each other, so did their bodies. Her knees rose up as he slowly immersed himself inside of her, filling her completely. He leaned on his forearms, looking down at her. He slowly rolled his hips and she made a sound deep in her throat that he thought was the most incredible and adorable sound he had ever heard. Her hands moved up his back, her fingers grazing over him as his hips moved back and forth, slowly at first and then with more pressure, building and eliciting magical sensations and sounds from both of them.

Mary felt herself falling and thrumming, overwhelmed by the feel of him inside her and around her, and the wonderful things he was murmuring in her ear. She reached one hand upward, curling her fingers around a wood slat in the headboard and the other hand gripped his arm. He began to move faster and faster. Mary panted in rhythm with their movements. "Yes, oh God, yes…" she moaned, her voice trembling with unblievable imminent release.

Matthew turned his head and looked at her. _So close, so very close_, he thought as he thrust faster and faster. He braced himself with one arm and reached down to touch her swollen center and in the next instant she arched her back and seemed to fly, her breath hitching in her throat and then a sob of release, breathlessly moaning his name again and again, filling the moonlit room with the voice of her peak.

She quivered for several moments and his movements became erratic, his hips jerking and pumping. At the sight and feel of her blissful release, he felt a powerful orgasm grip him. His head fell forward, his eyes shut and his mouth opened against her shoulder, muffling his cries of ecstasy. His body stiffened and his head shook as he screamed in to her shoulder, quaking against her uncontrollably.

Mary slipped her arms around him, caressing him and pulling him to her. He shook in her arms several times, his body spent from release and longing and rapture. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever experienced.

And then the room fell silent, only their breathing detectable as they caught their breath…

She kissed his hair and his ear and he mumbled something incoherently, but Mary wasn't sure what it was and she didn't care. She cooed as she kissed him with her arms and legs tangled around him.

She smiled and squeezed him tightly. His damp body slid to one side, his other leg sill draped around hers, and he rested his cheek against her. "I said," he breathed out against her neck, nuzzling against her, "I think I need a doctor."

She chuckled softly in to his hair and kissed him again. "A million butterflies?"

His body shuddered and he squeezed her in his arms, kissing her. "Ten million butterflies…" His tone was drugged with love and sex and sleepiness.

She exhaled a contented sigh. "We'll have to work our way up to a trillion butterflies." She kissed his temple. "But that would take a lifetime."

_A lifetime of little presents_, he thought. He sighed, sated and happy, and rested against her.

His Mary; his stick…his wife.

* * *

**A/N** Voila! There you have it...First Lovers Kiss; First Night; and First Time. So many wonderful 'firsts'. It was so much fun writing this. I wish I could write more...First Morning; First Tiff; First Signs of Baby...ack, the possibilities are endless! But will end it here. There are other themes for trilogies. Thank you, thank you so very much for reading, you lovely readers! :)

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